Ever Present, Because Immortal
by Nymphadora-CullenBAU
Summary: The BAU travels to St. Paul, Minnesota to find a serial killer with no apparent motive for killing. But when Reid falls for the next potential victim, the team must work fast to save them. Please R&R! I own nothing. Ch. 11 is a playlist and sequel info.
1. Another Adventure

It's nearing midnight on the dark streets of St. Paul, Minnesota. The local bars and clubs are releasing their patrons for the night; they drunkenly make their way to the Metro bus stations, the LightRail, or to their cars. Some of them walk home to their beds.

Among the buildings and streets, two young brunette women weave happily through a well-lighted, though very dark street, giggling hysterically. They appear to be no older than 16 or even 18 years of age, and are talking about the party they have just left.

"I'm NOT kidding, Lainey," the first girl, Jessica, insists. "Danny Jacobs was SO eying you tonight."

"No, he wasn't," Lainey insists, slurring her words as she grips at a lightpole the two women have passed. "He was so high, he could've been looking at the damn ceiling overhead, and thought he could see through to the stars."

"Really?" Jessica chuckled. "I could've sworn he was looking at you. Imagining you in his bed, undressing you with his eyes…"

"Oh, shut UP, Jessica!" Lainey cries, mockingly hitting out at her friend. Both of them shriek out in drunken laughter.

Neither of them notices the van pulling up beside the curb as they continue to laugh. They never see the sliding door open, and by the time they look to see the gun that pokes out, they are already dead, the shots muffled from anyone ever hearing them.

There is a beat of silence before the owner of the van steps out. He leans over each girl, checking them for a pulse. Then, he reaches toward them, laying the hands of his victims on their stomachs. Satisfied with his kill, the murderer straightens up, dusts himself off, and returns to his car.

No one has even noticed.

~~~~***~~~~~***

"Good morning, sweetness," Derek Morgan calls out to Penelope Garcia as she walks by his desk.

"I'll show you a good morning, Hot Stuff," she crows, turning to face him with an eager smile.

On the other side of the office, in the tiny workplace kitchen, Dr. Spencer Reid pours himself a cup of coffee, chuckling to himself as Morgan and Garcia teasingly flirt with each other. On his other side, Emily Prentiss smirks, staring at the two friends as they play happy couple.

"Those two…" Emily chuckled, grabbing her coffee mug from inside the cabinet above her head.

Reid turns back to his mug, a small smile still in place on his face. "You know, that never gets old."

"Unlike the coffee," Prentiss reminds him, taking a sip, and making a face. "I think the coffee-maker is on the fritz again. Be careful."

"Isn't it always on the fritz?" Jennifer Jareau, or JJ, as her teammates and friends routinely called her, remarked as she approached the two profilers. "Budget cuts have kept it from being fixed… or, even better, replaced. But coffee is the least of your worries. We've got a new case; it looks like St. Paul has a serial."

"Joy." Emily muttered. Reid raised his empty coffee cup in a salute before taking a sip of his coffee, and promptly spitting it out.

"Nope," he muttered. "The coffee-maker is definitely NOT on the fritz. It passed the fritz a long time ago."

With that, the five agents went up to the briefing room, where Hotch and Rossi were already waiting.

JJ turned on the computer, and brought up some images.

"This is Jessica King and her best friend Lainey Jones. Both girls were walking home from a small keg party that had been busted shortly after they left. They appear to be the fourth and fifth victims of a serial killer who is randomly targeting men and women between the ages of 16 and 23. There is no connection between any of the victims except for the positioning of the bodies, and the fact that our last two victims were best friends."

"How were they positioned?" Morgan asked.

"They were lying face up on the sidewalk. Their eyes were shut, and their hands were folded across their stomachs. Each victim also had a rosary threaded through their fingers." JJ replied, bringing up another picture of one of the victims hands, which sported a small plastic rosary intertwined in her fingers. "It's a very cheap version, machine made, one of the glow-in-the-dark models that you usually find at a store for a dollar, or the type that churches give away for free

during parish holidays, or Communion."

JJ clicked her remote at the screen again. "According to the reports, there were no fingerprints, no hair fibers, clothing fibers or other trace evidence. Just the rosaries."

"Who were the other victims?" Hotch asked.

JJ brought up another bunch of pictures. "The first victim was Jacob Swan, age 19, a student at the University of St. Thomas. Our second and third victims were Amiee and Alec Sawyer, ages 18 and 23. Aimee was a freshman at St. Catherine University, and Alec worked at an Italian restaurant in downtown St. Paul. Jessica and Lainey were 16 and 17, respectively, and both were students at Cretin Derham Hall, a St. Paul private high school."

"All right," Hotch said. "Wheels up in 30."

The rest of the team, save for Reid, Rossi and Morgan, got up to leave the room "Hang on a minute, JJ," Reid called suddenly. "I just noticed something."

"What is it?" Rossi asked.

"The first three victims," Reid began. "They look as though they've been restrained. They had ligature marks on their wrists, arms, ankles and legs. Yet Jessica and Lainey look as though they have only been shot, yet they have the same mood rings. Same signature with the same M.O, but it's a different kill tactic."

"The St. Paul crime lab has figured out that the rings on out two newest victims are in fact the same rings as the ones used in the last three murders."

"But why shoot them in the middle of the street?" Hotch asked, "A city as heavily populated as St. Paul, someone would've heard a gun go off, unless he had a silencer, of course."

"But why kill them?" Prentiss asked. "They almost have no apparent connections to each other. They all attend different schools; two of them were in high school and one of them worked at an Italian restaurant. Nothing about this crime makes sense; if I didn't think the profile would have a gaping hole in it, I'd say this guy was a sadist. But the act of crossing their arms and closing their eyes afterward speaks of remorse."

"It looks like we're gonna be working extra hard this week," Morgan replied. "If this UnSub kills again, he'll probably be doing it sometime this week."

"And we can't let that happen," Reid finished, looking at the pictures.


	2. Aislinn

_**Hi! For those of you who don't know me, my name is Nymphadora-CullenBAU. This is my first story on FF, and right now I'm just testing the waters to see if anyone likes my writing style. Please don't be afraid to review; I don't bite, and I'll try to reply to all of your reviews (If I figure out where they come in from). Anyway, since it didn't make it into my first chapter: I own nothing! It's all CBS. Enjoy!**_

~~~***~~~***

_Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's painful ~Isaac Asimov_

"So, this UnSub usually takes his victims, and holds them for a few days before disposing of them in alley ways and wooded areas with a rosary in their hands, their arms crossed, and their eyes closed." Morgan set his case file down, staring at the rest of the team. "Why? It looks like remorse, and in all honesty it _could_ be remorse, but I don't really think it is remorse, at the very least he's staging his victims."

"Maybe he sees something of himself in the victims," Reid said, his eyes dancing across the page of the coroner's report for Aimee, comparing it to Jessica's and Lainey's pictures. "Maybe a parent or other relative died in his past; or he had a year where he lost a majority of his family in a short span of time."

"That doesn't seem right," Prentiss admitted, returning from the coffee machine at the back of the plane. "It explains the rosaries, but all I can think of is the possible remorse the UnSub shows his victims."

"It seems more like he's staging them, but at the same time, there is a bit of remorse." Reid muttered as he glanced closer at the picture. "I noticed that he washes the body, but hides it in the garbage, or in an alley, or out in the woods. However, there's no blood, and the report says they didn't die of asphyxia."

"That's hopefully what we'll figure out. Until then I've had Garcia search the victim's names to see if there's a connection anywhere." Hotch admitted. "Rossi, you and I will go check out the crime scenes, starting with the two most recent victims. JJ, I want you to go to the St. Paul Police Station, try to assemble a press release. Reid, Morgan and Prentiss, go to the college campuses. Talk to some of the security officials, and look at the victim's dorms."

~~~***~~~***

_Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep._

Aislinn groans, pushing herself out of bed, fingers fumbling for her glasses and the sleep button on her alarm clock at the same time. However, when her fingers slip against the small plastic device screeching in her ears, it tumbles from its perch on the edge of the bed, and falls to the floor, the insistent beeping ceasing upon contact.

"Aw, crap," she moans, rising from under the covers, and shoving her glasses onto the edge of her nose. Sunlight peeks out from behind the blinded windows letting in just enough light for her to see.

Slowly, she bends down to pick up the alarm clock lying on the floor. It's one of those small, black plastic things that looks practical simply because it has a digital face. There's a dial for the alarm and time change mechanisms, and a long sleep button; it isn't a clock radio, even though she vouched for one when shopping for it. She fixes a part of the plastic face that came undone from the rest of the black body, and checks the time. She blinks, then turns to another clock, a radio/CD player that she honestly has no idea how to work, except for the CD player, and radio frequencies. The green display flashing at her reads 11:15 AM. The same exact time as her alarm clock.

"Aw, CRAP!" She wails, running to her dresser.

~~~***~~~***

Reid, Morgan and Prentiss had arrived at the Public Safety building on the St. Catherine's campus, where they were greeted by a young woman in a cop's uniform. She had short black hair, dark eyes that flashed in the light, and was strongly built.

"You must be the guys from the FBI. I'm Staci, the head of Campus Security."

"I'm SSA Derek Morgan, this is SSA Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid. It's good to meet you."

"Likewise. I expect you'd like to see Aimee's dorm room." Staci looked at them sadly. "The things you must see on the job. I feel so sorry for the girl's mother. Imagine losing your daughter like that, and then your son. The poor woman must be distraught."

"A few of our other team members are visiting her mother now."

~~~***~~~***

Aislinn tossed her Math textbook into her bag before hastily zipping it up with one hand; the other held a hairbrush with which she tried desperately to tame the unruly brown bush growing from her head.

"Screw it!" she cried, throwing the brush down and grabbing a ponytail holder. She looked herself over in the mirror one last time.

A young girl with shoulder-length light brown hair pulled back into a hastily-made ponytail stared back. Her chocolate-brown eyes gazed sleepily back from the mirror, watching from behind square, blue-framed glasses perched on a button nose. Freckles were scattered randomly across her round, almost child-like face, and her cheekbones showed enough definition to show that she wasn't as young as she seemed.

She pulled a face at the mirror; raising her upper lip in a silent growl, and then sticking out her tongue before she turned around, grabbing her backpack in one hand and tucking her lanyard in her pocket with the other. Finally, as an afterthought, she pocketed a small black notebook decorated with pink butterflies. Satisfied with having everything she needed, she closed and locked the door to her dorm room.

~~~***~~~***

"Was Amiee very active in school activities?" Prentiss asked Samantha Rawlings, a petit girl with long blonde hair and a slender face.

"Not really," Samantha admitted. "I mean, she was kind of going through a hard time, because her grandmother had recently died, and they were very close; her grandmother raised Aimee and her brother Alec after their dad left them, because her mom was in a right state. But her mom snapped out of it after Aimee started high school."

"So you went to high school with Aimee?" Reid clarified.

"Yeah," Samantha said. "We had our lockers next to each other during our sophomore year, and we had the same English teacher senior year. Plus, we both worked for the high school newspaper during junior and senior year. She always had such funny things to say when she did the opinions page…" Samantha's voice broke. "I… I gave her a portfolio of her articles when we graduated, saying that she could use them as writing samples when she applied for the _Pennsylvania Inquirer_ after college." Samantha closed her eyes. "She was my best friend." She whispered.

Prentiss sat down by the young woman, and patted her shoulder. "I know what it's like," she answered, "And if you need anything, someone to talk to, or anything at all, please call me." And she handed Samantha a business card.

~~~***~~~***

"FBI, I take it," an officer steps up to the car as Dave and Hotchner get out. "Officer James Donahue, St. Paul Police Department."

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA David Rossi." Hotch summarizes. Is this the latest crime scene? Where are we?

"This is the corner of Randolph and Hamline. They appear to have been walking east on Randolph from the party. All we got from the people we arrested at the party was that they were there, and left a couple minutes before we came."

"Smart girls." Hotch muttered as Rossi walked westward down the street.

" They're walking this way," Rossi deducted, tracing invisible footprints on the sidewalk; Hotch watches him from the edge of the crime scene. "One, maybe both of them, are drunk."

"So they don't notice me," Hotch says, walking away from the scene over to where Rossi stands, thinking. "I'm driving this way. It's dark, deserted. The windows of the building here are dark."

"It's usually a very low-risk neighborhood; nothing of consequence happens here that often."

"The neighborhood is full of old houses," Officer James Donahue admits, watching the profilers at work. He's a beefy man with a square face, a big nose, and a small portion of neck. "Old houses usually mean old money, but in this case, it's mostly middle-class families in the area. Families with young children, most of whom hang out over at the St. Kate's campus; they have ducks in the pond that the kids feed."

Rossi nodded. "So a low-risk neighborhood suddenly gets a serial killer."

"Sound like a good storyline for another book, Dave?" Hotch asked, a slight grin on his face.

"I'll consider it," Rossi admits to his colleague. "So our UnSub drives by these two inebriated girls. Does he stop the car, or does he shoot from the window of his car as he passes? Or maybe he stops the car when the girls stop, slip into the back and shoots them."

"It's possible," Hotch said as his phone began to ring. "If they were drunk enough to not notice a nearby car stop, open the door and shoot."

"But how do you talk to teens that went to a kegger? They'll barely talk to cops, let alone you guys, about this sort of thing. How do you expect them to do that?" Donahue asked.

"We'll get them to talk," Hotch said as he answered the phone. "Garcia?"

~~~***~~~

Aislinn dashed through the almost deserted yard between the newer dorms and the student center, passing the gym and Fontbonne Hall, where the Family Consumer Science classes were held. The quad was heavy with mid-April sunlight, but it was just cool enough for the majority of the women on campus to have jackets and light sweaters on them. Aislinn hadn't had the fortune to grab her new school sweater-jacket, but it didn't matter now.

She crossed the quad, digging in her pocked for her cell phone, but instead coming up with her iPod.

She didn't see the three figures crossing the quad ahead of her until she ran headfirst into the tallest of the three.

~~~***~~~***

"The Highland area of St. Paul, or West, St. Paul, is usually a low-risk area for crime." Reid noted as he, Prentiss and Staci walked back toward the Public Safety building. "I mean, in 2008, the crime rate here in St. Paul was 48.1 crimes per 1,000 people."

"Yeah, that's right," Staci said, surprised. "How'd you know that?"

"I did some research."

"Also, his mind soaks up information like a sponge," Emily added.

"I have an I.Q of 187 and an eidetic memory; my mind isn't a sponge. Sponges absorb nutrients through osmosis. I just… read a lot."

"But you absorb coffee like a sponge." Prentiss joked.

"Oh, ha ha…"

A second later, a body slammed into Reid, and he toppled, landing on his back in the grassy quad. He stared up into a pair of horrified brown eyes behind a pair of blue glasses.

"Oh, God, I am SO sorry!" The girl cried. "I'm really sorry, I'm just late for class… I'm sorry."

She dashed off, but not before a small black notebook with pink butterflies fell from her pocket and onto the ground. Reid picked it up, confused.

"Should I-?" He began, gesturing toward the girl, who had run into a building marked as being called "Mendel Hall."

"It's fine." Staci said. She's probably halfway to class by now. Besides, she admitted she was late, so she probably didn't want to be held up. Chances are she'll realize the book is missing, and go to Public Safety to claim it. You'll be seeing her again, don't worry."


	3. The Notebook and a Connection

_**I guess I really went to town with this chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read this story, favorited, and added it to their alerts! You guys are amazing!!**_

_**And a very special Thank You and shout out to **__**cloudgirl9**__**, who has the honor of being my first reviewer!!! :D**_

_**Again, except for Aislinn, nothing is mine! If it was, Morgan and Garcia would've gotten together in season three, and Reid would have a girl hanging off his arm (and his every word). **_

~~~***~~~***

Aislinn staggered to the top of the staircase, panting; four flights of steep stairs was too much for anyone to handle, even her. But it had to be done; the elevator was too slow, and she needed the exercise.

Her hand brushed the edge of her pocket, and was surprised to see that her notebook's familiar presence was gone.

_But I KNOW I put it there,_ she mused. But it wasn't there. Suddenly Aislinn remembered the quad, and bumping into the young man walking on the quad. She sighed. She could get it later; now she needed to get to class before her Math professor lowered her grade anymore than it already was.

~~~***~~~***

Spencer Reid had been in the presence of crying women before; in his line of work, it was almost as common as the dead bodies left by the UnSubs. So he had been surprised when he was told to stay on campus for the time being to work a geographical profile. But he didn't mind; he liked working on this aspect of the process of building the profile. He felt that is stimulated his mind, and helped him think.

JJ had called shortly after the interview with Aimee's roommate; they were setting up base at the St. Catherine's Public Safety office, and he was needed to start the geographical profile. Prentiss would go interview the parents with Morgan, who had been questioning the Public Safety officers, and exploring the campus, trying to figure out how the UnSub would've gotten access to Aimee.

Now, Reid was checking a map of West St. Paul that had been tacked to a whiteboard in an office in the Public Safety building. He had a system, a method for the multicolored pins he placed. The red ones were the dorm halls (or family residences) of the victims; Jessica and Lainey had lived at home, not in a dorm. Green was where they had last been seen; outside Barnes & Noble in Highland Park (Jacob Swan), walking past the pond on campus (Aimee Sawyer), outside the Italian restaurant he worked at (Alec Sawyer), and just down the street from school (Lainey and Jessica). White was where the bodies had been discovered; an ally just down the street from the St. Catherine's campus, the wooded area of the campus, and the corner where Jessica and Lainey had been shot.

It was late afternoon; most of the students on campus were out of classes; Reid could hear voices outside on the quad, and a voice floated from the main desk, where a woman was asking to borrow a bike. Reid paused for a moment to pick up a pin (white), and placed it on the corner of Randolph and Hamline. He faintly heard a voice ask for something at the front desk, but was engrossed in his locating that he didn't hear exactly what it was. I wasn't until he felt eyes on him that Reid managed to turn around.

"Um…Hi," the girl muttered

"Hi." Reid began. "Umm, did you want something?"

~~~***~~~***

Aislinn was beyond nervous. _Does he remember the fiasco this morning? And how do I know for sure he has my notebook? Oh, God, this was a really bad idea!_

And he seemed so nice, too. Not to mention handsome. Tall, with longish thick, curly brown hair, a soft, lilting face, and expressive caramel brown eyes. He was dressed in such a way that reminded her of a stereotypical college professor, or a stately young gentleman from London in the 1800's. He had seemed so engrossed in the map, she hadn't wanted to disturb him….

"Umm…" She began hastily, "I… erm… I kinda owe you an apology." She muttered, her head hanging, one hand scratching at the peeling purple polish on her fingernails.

~~~***~~~***

Reid watched her silently. She was clearly nervous about seeing him; her body language, and lack of eye contact proved that. Also, she seemed to be paying more attention to her nails.

But Reid also noticed how her hair caught the late afternoon sunlight that was shining through the office, turning it from brown to blonde, and revealing what appeared to be slight highlights of red, the way it curled around her face, and how she tucked it behind her ear so quickly. The freckles on her cheeks, and the way she still seemed like a child in so many ways.

He noticed from the corner of his eye the black notebook with the butterflies, and he picked it up. Turning to her, he held it up. "Umm… E-excuse, me, umm…"

The girl looked up, startled.

"Aislinn. Aislinn Werner."

~~~***~~~***

Aislinn had surprised herself on many occasions. It had always been that way, since she'd been a small child.

During the 8th grade field trip to Eagle Bluff, the retreat center near Apple Valley, she had been the only person to get hot in her winter clothes, which everyone had worn all that week. That same year, she'd gone to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area for a trip with some other kids, and for some reason, she wanted to stay there forever; the other students couldn't wait to go home, even though they had enjoyed the beauty of the park. She hadn't acted on those impulses, but they had stayed with her.

A little over a year ago, she had gone on a trip to Washington DC to see the inauguration of President Obama, and they had spent a few days in New York City. Aislinn remembered how the city had seemed so big and bright, full of pulsing light and life. However, when the plane had landed back in St. Paul, Aislinn hadn't wanted to leave. She felt like she had forgotten something, even though she checked everything -- the seat, the pockets, the floor. It turned out that her grandfather had died while she had been on the trip, a surprise for her whole family.

A few months later, she had felt a similar feeling at her grandmother's funeral, something more acute to a premonition, like she knew she'd be attending another funeral very soon, and she wouldn't be happy about it. She had admitted to dismissing the notion, but then, only a few days later….

_No!_ She chided herself. _Don't think about it. You have enough nightmares and thoughts about it; you don't need to worry about more!_

But now she had told her name to a strange young man, someone who she didn't know, someone who she'd accidently ran into simply because she'd been late for class, looking for her cell phone when it was still sitting on a shelf in her room, complete with charger still jammed into the side. She'd figured out he was one of the people from the FBI who was investigating the murder of Aimee Sawyer and the other people around town. And now…

"Aislinn, I-I think this belongs to you."

~~~***~~~***

"_Aislinn, I-I think this belongs to you."_

Spencer Reid watched Aislinn for a moment. She looked surprised, and a bit relieved about the whole thing.

"Thanks," she said, thankfully taking the book from Reid's hands. "I thought I'd lost it. Thank you again, umm…"

"Dr. Spencer Reid… umm, well, you can call me Reid. Or Spencer; you, ah… you don't have to call me Doctor." Reid cleared his throat; he felt his face suddenly glow with heat.

"Well, thank you… umm, Spencer?" She asked. He nodded. "Yeah, and…um, no hard feeling about this morning?"

Reid shook his head. "Ah, no, actually. This morning I can understand. You… you were late for class; I get that. I've had that happen to me, too. And on more than one occasion."

~~~***~~~***

It had been a long time since Aislinn had been able to open up like this. She liked Spencer. He was very nice. If he hadn't forgotten about this morning, then at least he had forgiven Aislinn for it.

"Well," she began, "It was very nice to meet you, Spencer. You seem… altogether normal. You know, for an FBI agent."

"I'm not really normal, Aislinn." Spencer admitted. "I mean, I'm basically a genius; I highly doubt you know anyone with an IQ of 187, or an eidetic memory."

Aislinn shook her head. "No, I don't." She admitted. "I…" _I also haven't been able to feel so comfortable around someone for such a long time,_ she thought. _Not since…_

"I… Do you want to get coffee with me sometime?" Aislinn blurted out, once again, surprising herself; she had never done that twice in one day.

She thought Spencer looked surprised. She didn't know where the words came from, or how they had come out of her mouth, but… Suddenly, they were there.

"Umm… I'd like that, yeah," Spencer replied; Aislinn noticed that his voice seemed to rise a few octaves when he said that.

For some reason, she found it… nice.

~~~***~~~***

Reid watched her leave, smiling slightly. They had decided to meet for coffee at Brewberrys, a local coffee shop within walking distance of the St. Catherine's campus. The hadn't decided on an exact time and date, though; Reid was working a profile, and Aislinn had classes and homework on a regular basis.

Reid smiled, glancing at his phone, Aislinn had given him her number, and he had returned the favor by not only programming in his number, but also handing her one of his business cards. He smiled as he flipped through his contacts, finding her number.

He smiled as he remembered all the details of their encounter; her smile as she talked to him, the way she seemed to pay attention to everything he said. He thought of the way her eyes lit up when he mentioned some of the literature his mother had read to him as a child.

Reid moved through his contacts for a moment longer before settling on a familiar number, and pressing 'Send.'

~~~***~~~***

"Crossroads of Information, how may I service you today?" Garcia sang as she answered her phone. She twirled her favorite purple fuzzy pen, and adjusted her glasses.

"Garcia, it's Reid."

"Hey, Sweet-Cheeks. Is there something you want me to run for you?" She uncrossed her feet, and drew herself up to the keyboard, fingers ready.

"Actually, I, uh… I need some advice."

"On what?" Garcia paused; what would Reid want advice on?

"A girl. I just met her, and we're hopefully going out for coffee later this week."

Ooh, what's her name?"

"Aislinn Werner. She's a student at St. Catherine's. We, uh, bumped into each other this morning."

"And you want me to dig up some juicy tidbits on her so you can question her about her life? Is that it?"

"No, Garcia," Reid sounded flustered at the very idea of peeking into Aislinn's life; to him, it seemed… wrong. "Just… just some, ah, conversation starters; she loves to read, apparently, and I was hoping you could dig up a few book tiles that she may have read. Just because she may not have read the same literature I have."

"Right you are, Genius. Listen, is the rest of Hotchner's Army in the vincinity?"

The door opened as Reid looked up.

~~~***~~~***

"Garcia's got something." Reid said as the rest of the team walked into the room.

"Contrary to most popular beliefs, it isn't contagious, my lovelies." Garcia called from over the phone.

"What do you have for us, Baby Girl," Morgan asked sweetly, "You know I love it when you work your magic!"

"Keep your chaps on, Chocolate God." This elected a few chuckles from the rest of the team before Garcia continued.

"I think I may have found a connection between you victims," She began in earnest. "Although it is quite… well, odd."

"What's the connection, Garcia?" Prentiss asked.

"Okay, so your first victim, Jacob Swan. Fourth of July 2009. Edward Swan, age 77 goes out for a stint in the fishing boat on Otter Lake, but doesn't come back when the sun sets. A group of recreational boaters found his body the next morning; he had suffered a major heart attack and died within minutes."

"What about Aimee and Alec Sawyer?" Hotch asked.

"Their uncle Charlie, who was fondly known as "Uncle Chuck", according to obituary, was the victim of a car-deer accident in October; he was driving a stretch of road just outside of Hastings, Minnesota, when a deer bounded out of the brush. He swerved and hit a tree, died on impact."

"And our latest victims, Jessica and Lainey. What happened to them?" Rossi asked.

"That, Sir David Rossi, is where it gets hinky. Lainey Jones' brother, Andrew, died in Iraq sometime last month. Poor girl," Garcia added. But Jessica King… There are no recent deaths in her family history at all. Her grandmother died when she was three, but that's it. Unless there is a family friend who shuffled off this mortal coil recently or something to that extent, I am clueless as to why the UnSub killed her."

"Unless it was simply the fact that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Reid pointed out.

"Thank you, Garcia." Rossi said.

"Garcia out, lovelies!"

"So this UnSub," Prentiss countered, "Is targeting people who have recently had loved ones _die?!_"

"Maybe he feels that they are unhappy with the fact that their loved ones are dead, and thinks he's doing them a service, reuniting them with the loved one." Morgan said

"But why kidnap the last three victims, and then shoot the last two?" JJ asked, confused

"It's like what Reid said. Jessica hadn't lost anyone, Lainey had." Rossi theorized. "The UnSub was only prepared for one person, not two. Seeing Jessica made him panic, and shoot them instead of taking them; he knew Jessica would talk if he only took Lainey, and he wasn't prepared to see Jessica with her."

"So he shoots Jessica because she's there, and Lainey because it'll be faster than trying to grab her." Morgan concluded.

"We're ready to give the profile," Hotch said.

~~~***~~~***

_A/N: Hi!_

_You're probably tired of hearing this, but please… I love to hear feedback on my stories. Give me a chance; review for me. Just click on the little icon-thingy down there, wait for the window to open and write something so I can see if I'm doing a good job._

_It's appreciated! And for a good cause._

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	4. Profiling a Killer of Death

_**Ok, Profile time! Also, this chapter may be a bit shorter than the others, mostly because I just wanted to get the profile done, and add a little something to thicken the plot.**_

_**And there's something else; well, three something's. One, I won't be able to update for the rest of the week; I have classes, homework, stuff like that. Two, I'm writing a piece for TheVampireAct's season 5 finale contest. I've got a couple ideas; I just dunno if I can post more than one story. Third, I'm also adopting **__**Murder After Morning Coffee**__** by droogdog. It'll be the first ever M rated story that I'll be continuing… Or writing… So I'm very excited and very nervous! It should be up within a few days, so keep a weathered eye on that horizon… :D**_

_**With the exception of Aislinn, Staci, my victims, the UnSub and a few other people, I own nothing! …Would be kinda cool if I did, though!**_

~~~***~~~***

The team was gathered into a small, unused classroom in Whitby Hall. Among the people being given the profile were various members of the St. Paul Police Department, including Officer Donahue, Staci and the rest of the Public Safety staff, and members of the Public Safety staff of The University of St. Thomas, Macalester College, Hamline University, and teachers and professors from the colleges, St. Paul Academy, and Cretin Derham Hall.

"The man we are looking for," Hotch began, waiting for the room to fall silent, "Is a type of serial killer known as an Angel of Death, an Angel of Mercy. Contrary to the main profile of an Angel of Mercy, our UnSub is male, and works alone. He is white, about mid-twenties to early 40's, and will most likely be driving a large van or SUV, dark or muted in color."

"He is an organized, mission-orientated killer, and feels that he is doing his victims a service by killing them," Morgan continued. "More than likely he's recently lost a member of his family to an illness, or an accident. Perhaps he lost a relative in the war, or a recent historical war. These victims have also experienced a significant loss in their lives. They have lost grandparents, an uncle and a brother."

"The Unsub," Rossi picked up, "doesn't wish for his victims to live through the pain that he's already gone through, so to make sure that it doesn't happen to them, he ensures that they will never have to experience it by allowing them to return to their lost relative."

"He usually reads up on his victims before he takes them," Prentiss added. "He kidnaps his victims, usually at night, and holds them for a few days. We believe that while he is doing this, he tries to make his victims become spiritually closer to their deceased loved one before he kills them, and believes that by doing so makes the victim feel at peace with him-or herself."

Reid stepped forward. "One well-known Angel of Mercy was Jane Toppin. During her murder trial, she admitted to the jury that she was "sexually aroused" by the idea of death; she would give the patients she chose as her victims a mixture of drugs and would lie down with them as they died, hugging them close to her body until they expired. Most likely, he also stays with his victims until they die; he wants to be there when their lives end, and feels obligated to stay and watch the victim join their loved one, as he seems to think. With the most recent victims, Jessica King, and Lainey Jones, he was unable to complete his ritual; we believe the reason for this is because he was unprepared to take Jessica King as a victim. So to make up for this mistake, he shot Jessica to keep her quiet, and Lainey simply for good measure."

"He will not be someone who will want attention; he will want to be unnoticeable, hidden in the shadows," Morgan said. "Look for guys who are shy, withdrawn, guys who have lost a loved one recently. If he is married, it may be that they haven't been married very long; if they had been, she would've figured out by now."

"Keep an eye on places that teenagers frequent: Schools, shopping centers, coffee shops, movie theatres." Rossi added. "Also, these teens were in the process of grieving; most likely, they saw a counselor, or attended a grief group. Check local grief groups for teens, therapy offices. That'll be all."

~~~***~~~***

**He had done his research. He knew what he had to do. He had to save them. He didn't want them to suffer.**

**A young man walked by the car, head up, backpack slung over one shoulder. The killer, the "UnSub" smiled at his perfect timing. Exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it.**

**He opened the sliding door, walking toward the young man….**

~~~***~~~***

Penelope Garcia wasn't one to pry into the lives of people from her teammate's personal lives, and made it a habit to only look there if she really HAD to, like the time in Chicago when Morgan had been falsely arrested for murder.

But Garcia wanted to know a little more about Aislinn; this girl seemed to be the answer to Garcia's prayers. She had always hoped that Reid would find someone. He deserved to have someone in his life, especially after what had happened to him in the past, what with his mother and father, and his childhood in Las Vegas. Not to mention all the things the team saw every day, plus Reid's past experiences with the like of Tobias Hankel, the Adam Jackson case, the Anthrax scare, getting shot and everything else.

"Let's see," she murmured, fingers tap-dancing across the computer keys like a pianist's fingers would dance across the keyboard.

"Ah!"

To Garcia, it looked as though Aislinn Werner had had a very normal life. She had been born here in St. Paul in 1991, grew up in Hastings, Minnesota, she had attended twelve years of public school… Drama club member, Art club member, Speech Captain, school newspaper staff, budding fiction writer…

"Graduation speaker," Garcia cooed. "You go girl!" Then she stopped at an article.

"You poor thing," she whispered. "Oh, no one should have to go through that, no one should!"

A second later, Garcia realized something…

_Oh, God… I have to… I need to call…_

Quickly, Garcia pulled on her headphones, and called a familiar, and at the present moment, very important, number.

~~~***~~~***

It was a little after 9, and the campus was dark, save for the lights coming from the buildings and light posts scattered across the campus.

Spencer Reid had just gotten off the phone with Aislinn; they had both decided that Friday afternoon, when Aislinn was done with class, would be a good time to grab coffee, and he was very hopeful that it would go well. Garcia had given him a list of conversation starters shortly after the profile briefing, and was pleased to see so many topics they could go on about. The plan was to meet outside of Whitby Hall after Aislinn finished English, and walk up the street to Brewberrys for the afternoon.

Reid was already lost in thought, trying to imagine what she would wear, or guess the answers of the questions she would answer, when he suddenly heard the door to the office he was in burst open.

A young St. Paul police officer ran into the room, holding a file. "It looks like he has another victim," he cried, laying down the folder. "It's 19-year-old Matthew Colton, last seen about 15 minutes ago outside Macalester University."

At the same time, Reid's phone rang. "Go ahead, Garcia," he asked.

"Reid," Garcia whispered, "It's Aislinn, she… she…"

"What is it?"

"I found an obituary for a Mr. Jakob Werner, age 48. He died August ninth of 2009 after a five year battle with colon cancer, and is survived by his loving wife Molly, and children Jake and Aislinn Werner."

Reid felt as though ice had been injected into his veins. His stomach twisted itself into knots. This just couldn't be happening, not to Aislinn. There was no way she could be a target. _No,_ he thought. _Oh, God, no. Please…._

"Reid," Garcia asked. "You want me to call Hotch?"

"Yeah," Reid muttered. "I'll… I'll get Aislinn… Tell her what's happened…."

~~~***~~~***

_A/N: … Hello!_

_Like I said, I'll probably update again this weekend. I have papers due in Theology, a test in Geography on Friday (If I remember correctly), and I'm presenting part of a book for English class Wednesday (We're actually TEACHING the class, if you can believe that… YIKES!)_

_Also, Aislinn's experiences growing up, and in high school, were all taken from my experience; I just changed names if there was need. Sorry if I wasn't very creative on that part. And I made her much younger than Reid, I know… But I want her to seem more mature for her age; Reid was 12 when he graduated high school, and was mentally more mature than his classmates. I wanted Aislinn to be emotionally more mature than her friends and classmates. Not to a point where she's a robot, but to a point where she can interact with people older than her._

_Please review; it lets me know you're interested in what I'm doing._

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	5. Memories

_**Finally it's up! Sorry if this took too long; I was up late, I have a small headache, and I had a slight run-in with writer's block for a few hours. But it's done! Any italicized lines that are underlined are a flashback Aislinn is having, and bold is the UnSub.**_

_**I also take this time to send a really big thank you to **__**cloudgirl9**__** and **__**dothepepperminttwist,**__** my star reviewers. And big hugs to everyone who's put this story on their favorites, and alerts, as well as looking at my other stories. You are AMAZING!**_

_**Nothing is mine; it's all CBS. I just watch the show, and stalk the characters (And follow the actors on Twitter; Thomas, Paget and Joe are so sweet and talkative, Kristin is awesome to hear from, and MGG posts the greatest pictures and links).**_

~~~***~~~***

Aislinn dozed slightly in front of her computer; she couldn't figure out how she would word her latest Geography essay, and it was due Wednesday.

But she wasn't thinking of the essay, or the Math class she was falling behind in, or the English book she needed to read, or the violin she needed to practice. She was thinking of another time, another place. A sunny summer day, back when she'd felt complete… content….

_Robert Soules sat in the seat next to her, laughing as the older houses passed by._

"_This is pretty cool!" he said; Aislinn nodded, smiling as the car drove by another house, her mother telling Jon Soules about the neighborhood. Jake, sitting between Aislinn and Connor, made a noise between a laugh and a snort. Aislinn ignored him; she loved her little brother, but he could be a pain in the butt sometimes. Not that she minded now._

_They were laughing, smiling and not really thinking about anything except for the scenery of green trees and old houses, when her mother's cell phone rang._

"_Jakob," Her mother asked, clearly surprised that her husband was calling now. Suddenly, Aislinn saw her mother's face grow pale._

"_What?!" She asked. "Well, why are you calling me? Call 911, and we'll be home as soon as possible. Even if I have to take you there myself, Jakob. Just take deep breaths, and we'll come right home." _

_Aislinn felt as though the bottom of her stomach had fallen out; she didn't know what was happening, but whatever it was, it wasn't good._

"_What is it?" she asked; she could feel Connor's and Jake's eyes on her._

"_It's your father, Aislinn," her mother said. "He… he can't breathe."_

_Aislinn didn't say anything; she didn't have to. She felt her mother straining to go faster, but they were in the middle of Historic Downtown; Aislinn saw a cop car parked out in front of the Hard Rock café next to the Mississippi Belle. As soon as they cleared the hill that led from downtown to the middle part of town, her mother sped up. Past the Medical Center and nursing home, and past the YMCA building. It was slow going up Featherstone Hill, but as soon as they passed the high school, her mother went even faster, only slowing down to make the turn onto Jacob Avenue, where they crossed the highway and flew down the road to the small yellow house where Aislinn lived._

_The whole way there, Aislinn looked behind her to see if there was an ambulance._

Aislinn jerked awake to the sound of her phone ringing. She rubbed her eyes, and stared at the computer screen for a moment before turning to her phone. She picked it up, glancing at the screen that announced that she had a text from Colleen, her best friend living over at Morrison. It was just a reminder, hoping that Aislinn would come to her dorm to play Dungeons and Dragons on Sunday, like they had last week. Aislinn texted back, saying that yes she would be there, ready to battle whatever creatures that Emma, Coleen's other friend, could think of.

Aislinn curled her arms round her midsection, glaring at the computer screen, waiting for the inspiration for the right wording to come. She sighed.

And jumped when her phone rang, signaling that she had a call. She checked.

**Spencer Reid FBI**

Aislinn, answered, feeling elated for the moment; even a few minutes away would be great.

"Spencer?"

"Aislinn, where are you?" She noticed that he sounded worried, anxious.

"I'm in my dorm room. Why, is something wrong?" She couldn't help the slight touch of fear that crept into her voice.

"Umm… It's about our case." He said. "Can I talk to you at the Public Safety office?"

~~~***~~~***

They met at the library instead, in one of the small group study rooms scattered throughout the library. Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss on one side of the table, Reid and Aislinn on the other side.

Reid could see that Aislinn was… well, not terrified. That wasn't the word he was looking for. Anxious, maybe. Confused, definitely. But not terrified. But that was only because she didn't know what was happening, why it was that they wanted to meet with her.

Suddenly, Reid felt pressure on his shoulder. He almost jumped, but relaxed when he realized that it was only Aislinn's head resting against his shoulder. He heard her sigh, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Tired?" Spencer heard himself ask. She nodded.

Spencer suddenly felt his hand reach up, and start patting Aislinn on the head. It was an awkward gesture on Reid's part, but for some reason, to him it felt… right. Comforting, at least.

"Aislinn," Hotch asked. Reid watched her for a moment; she had dozed off for a moment, closing her eyes as she leaned against Reid's shoulder. Her brown eyes opened, staring at Hotch for a moment with confusion.

"Whuzzup?" She slurred, slightly tired from sleep.

"There's something we need to tell you."

~~~***~~~***

She couldn't believe it. Aislinn couldn't believe it, didn't _want_ to believe it. A potential victim. She didn't understand it. She'd been falling asleep on Spencer's shoulder one second before they had told her, but once the words were out of Agent Hotchner's mouth, she'd woken up faster than if her clock radio back home had been turned up all the way, and been playing songs from KDWB (the pop culture music station that played hiphop, pop and R&B, which she would NEVER listen to under any circumstances. Aislinn had always liked anything but that noise).

"You fit the victimology of the UnS- of the killer, Aislinn," Agent Morgan said. "You're over the age of 16, and you've recently experienced the loss of a significant person in your life."

"But the only counselor I've seen is the one I have here on campus," she whispered. "I-I haven't gone to any support groups, I haven't seen anyone off-campus. I swear."

"But what about your mother and brother?" Hotchner asked. "Did they go see anyone?"

"They go to a support group for parents and teens; I don't know where it is, but Mom talks about it sometimes." She said. "Please, Agent Hotchner, I haven't done anything wrong, and I know my mom and brother haven't done anything wrong."

"First off, Aislinn, I want you to call me 'Hotch." Hotchner replied gently. "Secondly, I understand you haven't done anything, and I also understand that what you're going through isn't easy. You've recently lost someone that you love dearly; no one wants to go through that, especially at a young age and at a very young age at that."

"But, Agent Hot- I mean, Hotch," Aislinn began. "All that happened was that my father died. I feel guilty about it, and wish that I could've done something differently, but I didn't cause him to… to die. I did nothing wrong; I know that to be true."

Hotch looked at her sadly. "Aislinn," he said, after pausing for a moment. "Our job is to get into the minds of people like this guy. We do everything we can to guess his motives. But sometimes, there is no method behind the madness, no reasoning behind his motives. Sometimes they just… do things like this. To feel the thrill, to relive something, or to fulfill a purpose… And, no matter how many times we do this, there are always the ones whom we will never fully understand. That is what this guy is doing."

Aislinn nodded. "Okay." She muttered, glancing at Hotch for a moment before staring at her fingers again; there was a hangnail on her left middle finger, and she began picking at it while trying to mull things over.

~~~***~~~***

Spencer Reid watched Aislinn for a moment. She looked so… lost. He knew that she was confused by the whole turn of events in her life; she had started out the day as a normal teenager, going to class, talking with friends, worrying about homework and everything else teenage girls worried about. Now, she was a possible victim in a murder investigation conducted by the FBI. She had a target on her back, and would have to always keep looking over her shoulder, watching her back until they caught this guy, whenever that happened.

Aislinn was picking at her fingers; Reid noticed that it seemed to be a nervous habit of hers, like when he adjusted a stray strand of hair behind his head, or licked the edge of his mouth. He empathized with her; he knew what it was like to be caught up in the crosshairs of the UnSub; he still had flashbacks and nightmares of his time in the shack with Tobias, now and then mixed with memories of Cyrus, Dowd, Bryar and even the Turner's pig farm. His leg would still twinge in pain when it was going to rain, and he sometimes found it hard to catch his breath, a reminder of Chad Brown's Anthrax strain. Even worse were the sounds of George Foyet's voice, and the three gunshots that had killed Hailey, a sound none of the team was likely to forget.

"Reid," Hotch said, jolting Spencer from his train of thought. He looked up to see his supervisor standing over him.

"I want you and Prentiss to walk Aislinn back to her dorm; we'll figure out a protection detail tomorrow; right now, I want you and Emily to stay with her. If anyone asks or protests, tell them that our suspect may take another student here, and that you and Emily are staying there until further notice."

"But they don't allow men on campus after 2 AM," Reid pointed out.

"I know that," Hotch said. "But JJ has to give a press release tomorrow morning, and the St. Paul Police Force needs all the officers they can spare; none of them can stay here. Besides, Campus security has cleared it with me. Aislinn will be fine with you two nearby."

~~~***~~~***

**They are on to me. They know now why I go for them.**

**But I don't mean them harm; I only want to save them. It wasn't my fault that the last girl was with her friend. It was always so hard to get her alone…**

"**Please don't do this," my new patient whispered hoarsely. "Please… I-I won't tell, I'll do anything you want." **

"**But don't you miss her?" I asked. "You loved her so much, and she died. Don't you want to see her again?"**

**The boy closed his eyes. I could see he was still grieving, still in pain… I had to save him.**

"**It'll be over soon," I whispered. "You'll see her again shortly…"**

**He started crying as I began, but he soon stopped. I looked over his silent, still body, and I knew now that he was free, happy. Something I would never be.**

"**Rest now, child," I murmured, closing his eyes….**

~~~***~~~***

_Aislinn took the heavey wooded deck chair off the deck, setting it down on the grass to drag it across the lawn to the sidewalk. Mom had wanted them to move the patio furniture to make room for the EMTs that would arrive shortly after they had pulled into the driveway. Mom and Jon wouldn't let the three teens into the house; Aislinn thought it was because either she didn't want them underfoot, but it had only been so they could move the chairs._

_Aislinn turned away from setting her chair aside on the sidewalk in time to see the brown Sheriff's car pull into the drive behind a red First Response ambulance. While the ambulance went all the way around the U-shaped driveway, the sheriff's car stopped infront of the sidewalk Aislinn was setting her chair._

_Aislinn felt cold, despite the fact that the day was still warm. She couldn't believe this was real. She watched as the EMTs and into the house, while she retreated to the old swingset that was down the hill. A moment later, Jake and Robert joined her, both of them taking the swings; Aislinn climbed the rope ladder to sit on top of one of the two platforms on either side of the swings; the side she sat on hade a wooden bridge, while the other side was two platforms leading to a yellow slide, another ladder and a black rope used mainly for swinging._

_Aislinn stared up at the house, watching as a white truck pulled up, and another man got out, running into the house. A moment later, another mad came out of the house, ran to the ambulance and pulled out the gurney before running back toward it. A moment later, she saw the EMTs transporting her father from the house into the open ambulance._

_Aislinn slid down the side, running to confront her mother, who was getting into her dad's SUV._

"_Can I go with you?" she asked._

"_No," he mother replied. "You need to stay here until your aunt gets here."_

_With that, Aislinn went and sat on the porch, watching as the ambulance, the sheriff's car and the SUV follow each other out of the driveway. She watched the two bou=ys walk into the house, obviously looking as worried as Aislinn felt._

_Aislinn already knew this wasn't going to end well…._

….

_Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep._

Aislinn sighed into her pillow as she opened her eyes, glaring at the alarm clock as it's infernal beeping continued.

"Oh, God," She heard Emily moan. "That thing is so annoying!"

"I know," Aislinn grumbled as she sat up stretching slightly like a cat before reaching for her glasses, forcefully jamming them on her nose. "I wanted a clock radio with an alarm, but they were all so expensive and big, and my mom didn't want me lugging the one I already had around between campus and home, so she went with the cheap alternative. It's annoying, but it does the trick. Plus it has a snooze button that keeps it off for four minutes."

"Lovely," Emily said, glancing around the room.

"Yeah…" Aislinn muttered. "It's kinda messy; I don't usually clean up as much as I should." But I'm not here that often; I just crash here, so usually there isn't much to do for it."

"Alright," Emily said. "I'll go get Reid; he told me he was staying out in the lounge, so I'll leave and give you a minute alone. I don't think the UnSub will be coming in this way, or breaking the window, so I think you'll be fine. What class do you have today?"

"Geography, Math and English," Aislinn said without hesitation.

"Good," Emily said. "I'll get Reid, you get ready, and we'll go to class."

~~***~~~***

_A/N: Sorry this took so long; I was busy, and had some writer's block over the weekend; I also tried to work on a scene taking place later in the story, but it wouldn't come, even when I was sitting in the exact location that it would take place… Well, I tried on that._

_Next chapter will be interesting; Reid, Prentiss and Aislinn in class; that should be fun._

_Please Review; reviews mean I'll type faster knowing that people like reading this._

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	6. Distant Dark Places

_**Let me just say that I am SOOO sorry for making you wait for an update for so long… But I had finals (Theology essay, Geography essays, a project and a test, and an English portfolio), and I had to move out of my room, so I had no time to do anything. Plus I was suffering from a short bout of writer's block, but I think I'm over it for the most part. I found that listening to music helped me a lot with my thought process (thanks to bands like The Fray, Five for Fighting, Snow Patrol, Linkin Park and even Rob Pattinson for helping me sort out this chapter). I'm giving you an extra long chapter (over 3,000 words) to make up for my lack of updates.**_

_**And an extra special "thank you!" to my reviews: SayidRocks, cloudgirl9 and dothepepperminttwist; you guys are AWESOME! And thank you to the reviewers of my other stories, and the people who favorite me and my stories, as well as put them on alert, and everyone who has been waiting patiently for my update. Free virtual chocolate brownies with extra frosting for all of you!**_

_**I only own Aislinn and the UnSub and some other original characters in this and past chapters. I don't own Criminal Minds, Linkin Park, Leave Out All The Rest (the song), Eoin Colfer, Artemis Fowl, Yeats, Proust, Chaucer or any other literary references. Nor do I own the college; I go there, and attend classes, that's it. I only own an iPod, a laptop, a cell phone, some books and clothes and a dog. That's it. ENJOY!**_

….

Aislinn's first class of the day consisted on an early morning Geography class, where they were learning about dead and dying languages; the entire class period was spent watching a movie about these languages, some of which had only one person speaking them.

"Can you imagine that?" Prentiss asked as they left the room. "I spent my entire childhood moving from place to place, and to think that all those languages were right there in front of me makes me wonder what would've happened if I had stayed in even one place."

"It's actually not uncommon for a language to die out," Reid began. "There is a possibility that sometime in the near-future, that the entire planet will in fact switch to a single language, making all other languages obsolete. In fact, the top choices for this theory include French, English, Spanish…."

"But two weeks?" Prentiss asked. That's… uncommonly fast."

"Not if you're the last native speaker of that language." Aislinn replied.

In English, Aislinn was reading _Dubliners,_ which interested both Reid and Prentiss; Prentiss hadn't read the book since high school and college herself, and Reid had only seen the book once in an English class, his mother having never read the book, or kept it in the house, as far as he knew.

"Music plays an important role in the theme of each of the stories," Aislinn began. "Actually, music is a very intricate part of the Irish heritage and Irish society. In fact, the Irish are well-known for their jigs and airs, as well as their dancing, beer and legends of fairies."

"Ireland was also the home of many famous literary names," Reid added. "There was James Joyce, for one. But there was also Edna O'Brien, Oscar Wilde…"

"There's also William Butler Yeats, and Eoin Colfer; he wrote _Artemis Fowl_" Aislinn added, "and Bono."

"You mean the singer?" Prentiss asked.

"Yeah," Aislinn replied eagerly. "The lead singer form U2!"

"Wait," Reid asked, confused. "Who's Bono? What's 'U2?' What are you even talking about?"

"It's a band, Reid," Prentiss explained. "They're from Ireland, and they're really good."

I actually have some of their songs on my computer," Aislinn added. "I'll burn you some music from their CD's. They're really good."

"Wait a minute, burn?" Now poor Spencer was confused. "What's 'burn?' Isn't that bad for the environment, if you burn a CD."

"No, it isn't" Aislinn said. "It's kinda slang for 'I'll make you a copy of this CD, and put it on a disk for you so you can listen to it.' Usually I'll put just the ones I like, which I probably will, but I'll also put some of the other songs on it, too."

There was a pause before Reid continued. "I find the _Artemis Fowl_ series enlightening. All the rules that Colfer set up for the fairies of his world are actually based on real Irish legends involving fairies; the whole concept that they, the fairies, were not allowed to enter a house unless invited, for example. Add the different scientific and technological advances that appear in the novels, and you come up with a very sophisticated race of people."

Aislinn nodded. "The fact that Colfer made his fairies more technologically advanced than humans speaks volumes through the series overall. I think it gives light to the fact there may be other races of people out there, more sophisticated than humans, don't you think?"

Reid nodded just as his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his messenger bag to answer.

"Reid."

A short pause, where Spencer's whole demeanor changed before replying to whatever was said. "Okay, where?" he asked. "Okay… I'll be there in a…" He trained off. "Okay… Yeah… Thanks, Morgan." He hung up, turning to Prentiss and Aislinn.

"What is it?"

"They found another body; they think it's Matthew Colton's." Reid said. "Emily, they want you over at the dump site, on the corner of Edgcumbe and Randolph. Morgan asked me to stay here; he'll be along soon.

"Okay, sure." Emily said. "But why call you and not me?"

"Your phone's on, right?" Aislinn asked. Prentiss dug into her pocket and checked her phone.

"Damn," she muttered. "The battery died. But don't worry about it," she added hastily. "I'll grab the charger from the hotel on my way back."

"That's Matthew Colton's body," Donahue muttered as Prentiss approached the scene, Hotch and Rossi not far behind. "He was discovered at about 1:30 by a couple of people walking their dogs; they were heading home from the Patisserie just down the block." Donahue sighed. "I knew his father. Good man; he's a public attorney; his mother's an estate lawyer. Kid wanted to play hockey."

"We're sorry for your loss," Rossi said sympathetically. "This must be a very hard time for you."

Donahue nodded. "I promised his mother I'd find him alive."

Rossi and Hotch nodded; they had heard that sentence many times before, from cops and parents alike. It wasn't an easy thing to hear, despite it being repeated many times.

"I expect you probably hear that a lot," Donahue said, with an air of finality in his voice, "It's just…" he trailed off, hands frozen in a vague gesture. He lowered them, clearing his throat.

"He was found at about 1:30 this afternoon, and he expect the possibility that he was dropped off sometime this morning, probably around ten am."

"It's clear that no one saw him," Hotch explained, strolling around the area. "It's a suburban neighborhood. It's mostly families with children. Or couples with nine-to-five jobs that cause them to either not be _here,_ or unable to see the street from their home office, if that is where they work."

"Wait, you said that 'it's a possibility that the body was dumped at about twn this morning?" Prentiss asked.

Donahue nodded. "According to the shape of the body, as well as the fact that nobody saw it until now, makes me believe that theory works best for your timeline."

"Aislinn Werner's first class is at 10:55 in the morning on Monday, Wednesday and Friday," Prentiss exclaimed. "Which, if your timeline is correct, would give the UnSub more than plenty of time to drive over to wherever his next victim is. Which means that his next victim is…"

"Aislinn Werner." Rossi said.

"We need to get to St. Catherine's now." Donahue roared. "Swan, Richards, you're with Agents Hotchner and Rossi. Prentiss, you and I will swing by the station and get Agent Jareau."

"Where's Morgan?" Prentiss asked.

"I called him before we arrived; he'll meet us on the St. Catherine's campus," cried Rossi as he and Hotch raced for the SUV. "Call Reid; have him and Aislinn meet us by Whitby Hall so we can get them out of there."

Aislinn sat at the foot of a tree sitting at the edge of the pond. She was playing with the silver chain of a small, inexpensive locket, staring out at the ducks swimming on its edge. Reid leaned against the tree, in a sort of relaxed stance. He saw the ducks, obviously grabbing Aislinn's attention, but he also found himself looking at Aislinn. The way the sun glanced off her hair, turning some of the light brown hairs into a fiery, copper red-orange color. The way the wind teased it, throwing it into her face, and the way she tucked it back behind her ear. She was quite lovely.

It's alright," she said suddenly.

Reid was confused. "What's alright?"

"You can come and sit with me," she turned toward him, patting a patch of grass next to her.

He sat; the sun was setting, giving the pond the illusion of being set on fire. He found that it was a beautiful sight, calming, reflective. When had Spencer ever sat and just… relaxed? Had just taken in the environment around him? He sighed, feeling the stress and fear of his job, his _life_, even, fall away.

"I like coming out here," Aislinn said. "It's a nice view. It's calming, despite being in the middle of the city."

You're right," Reid said. "It is."

"I sometimes come out here, and feed the ducks." She admitted. "When I feel stressed, or angry, I come here. I like seeing how simple life is for them. I sometimes come out here, to… think, I guess." Aislinn placed her chin on her hands.

Reid smiled; he admitted to doing that too. There was a small park not far from his apartment; sometimes, after a hard case, he'd go there, sometimes with a few stale pieces of bread, and just feed the ducks. It was a calming activity, like reading.

"What do you think about?" He found himself asking.

"The memories," Aislinn replied. "I mean, you don't just lose a parent without remembering everything that happened, all the events that led up to that moment. Sometimes I wonder if it was something I did, or if I'd been there when it happened, something would've changed, and could've, I don't know, stopped it, or seen the signs before it happened, and prevented it."

"Your father, Aislinn, was ill," Spencer said. "Believe me when I say, I know what it's like, to see a parent, someone you love, waste away from an illness, and knowing that you can do nothing to stop it. It's…" He paused, trying to think of something to say, to explain what he'd gone through trying to care for his mother.

"It's like there's a hole inside your chest, and there's nothing you can do to plug it up." She offered. "You want to do something, anything, to make them better. You hope they'll find a miracle cure, and that he'll be cured. You worry every time he goes to the hospital, because you feel that if they go, they might not come out alive, or that they won't even make it there alive."

"You couldn't have prevented it, Aislinn," Reid continued. "His body was shutting down; he knew it was over for him, and he wanted to go as peacefully as possibly."

"'_When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done; help me leave behind some reasons to be missed. Don't resent me, and when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory, leave out all the rest.'"_ Aislinn whispered. "Linkin Park." At Reid's confused look, she explained. "It was a song I heard once. To me, it means that when someone you love dies, you should remember them the way they'd want to be remembered by you. That there should be good memories left behind, not regrets and resentments. Basically, you should hold on to _your_ memories of the person, and leave behind any other memories that may tarnish that memory."

She looked at him, turning away from the ducks on the pond. "What happened with you?"

"My mother has schizophrenia, and my father left when I was ten." Spencer started. "I loved my mother, and on her good days, even if she stayed in bed, would read to me. Proust, Chaucer… It was always nice to listen to her. Sometimes, she would get out of bed, take a walk, cook sometimes, even. And for a moment, I would think that she would get better, that she would fight it off, and return to normal."

"And on her bad days?"

"Sometimes, she would think that she was being watched. I came home from school one day to find her burning all my toys and stuffed animals. She thought the government was watching her through their eyes. Other times, she'd have me write down the lyrics of Bob Dylan songs, thinking that they were telling the stories of our lives. And there were days," He paused, fingers fidgeting slightly. "Sometimes, I would come home, and she wouldn't even notice I was there, or she would think I was a government agent."

"What happened?"

Reid sighed, looking back out over the pond. "When I was 18, I committed my mother to a sanitarium in Las Vegas. Bennington. It was a really nice place, with great doctors and everything, but it felt like I had… failed her. It felt like I'd given up. But I'd known there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help her, and I felt helpless because of it. I still feel guilty about sending her away, and I write her a letter every day, telling her about what's happening, what I'm doing. I've been told that she enjoys them quite a bit."

Aislinn smiled. "Are all your stories like that?"

"Something of that sort," Reid admitted. "So…"

"I had just graduated, and the Sunday after my graduation party, we were having breakfast, when my parents explained that… There weren't many options left to pursue in treating dad's cancer." Aislinn paused. "I was… I was just getting ready for college a few months later when it happened. A childhood friend of my dad's and his son had come up to visit, and we were showing him around town. We were on the other side of the tracks when he called; Cowtown is what it's called, but it's mostly older houses over there. There hadn't been any livestock there for years."

"What happened?"

"Dad called mom, and said he couldn't breathe. Mom told him to call 911, and she'd come home." Aislinn swallowed. "We arrived at the house slightly ahead of the ambulance, but mom wouldn't let us kids in the house. She told us to move the patio furniture so the EMT's could get in. They stabilized him there in the house, but took him to the hospital just in case."

"And then?"

Aislinn started picking at her nails again. "He was supposed to start hospice that day, and the hospice nurse showed up just after the ambulance arrived. My aunt showed up shortly after it left. Mom and Robert, my dad's friend, left for the hospital in Robert's car. We went about an hour after the ambulance left to go to the hospital. We went in, went down the hall, but by then…"

"It was over?" Reid asked

Aislinn nodded; she didn't need to clarify. Tears started falling from her eyes. "Cardiac arrest," she whispered. "I can't remember what mom said, but I like to think he went peacefully." She sniffed. "I'm sorry about this," she muttered.

Spencer awkwardly patted her shoulder, and she curled up against him, burying her face in his shirt. He didn't know why, but it seemed _right _to Spencer. He noticed that her hair smelled of lavender and ocean breezes, and her clothes smelled of spring. He felt comfortable here; he felt that he could sit here all day and night. It almost seemed like several sunlit days had passed…

And then his phone rang.

Aislinn pulled away. "You should probably get that," she said, wiping the tears off her face, smiling slightly; Reid felt that it seemed… forced.

"What about…?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "Go."

Reid moved a slight distance away, toward the bridge that led out onto an island in the middle of the pond, and answered the phone.

"Reid."

"Oh Thank GOD!" Garcia cried in relief. "None of the others answered their phones, and I didn't know why…"

"They found another body, Garcia," Raid started, confused. "What…?"

"Don't speak, Boy Wonder; I have _très__important_ news that you MUST hear!" She sounded exasperated, but excited. "I think I have a connection between your victims…"

**Soon she would be mine. Soon I would free her. Just as I had the others.**

**One of the Agents is with her. He is obviously watching so I can't take her, keeping me from saving her. She is so beautiful, and so sad. She needs to be saved, more than any of the others have. Maybe I'll do it here, there is no one else around. Save for the Agent, of course. But he looks as sad as she does. I could save him; hopefully it isn't too late for him, like it is for me.**

**WAIT! …He's getting up. He is answering his phone… And he's leaving the girl. Alone. He's not going too far away; just over the bridge, but he's far enough away for me to do what I came here to do, which is to save her….**

**Now is my chance; I may not get another one…**

Aislinn watched Spencer walk along the edge of the Dew Drop Pond while talking on his phone to Garcia. She felt a smile come unbidden to her lips. She had felt so… comfortable in Spencer's arms; it was like she was _supposed_ to be there, with him. He was amazing, and nice. And his life had been similar to her own life, in many ways….

She wiped at another tear that fell from her eyes. She really didn't want him to leave; they had so much in common; before her English class, they had chatted about various authors, and upon hearing just a minute ago that he had read Chaucer, Proust and other literary greats made her think that there were people in this world who cared about good literature, not just what was popular at the present moment.

But she knew he would have to leave; Spencer had a job, a home, a _life_ back in Virginia; there was no way he would stay in Minnesota for her, and not a snowball's chance that he would even _wait_ for her. Their age difference was astronomically astonishing at best; there were compatible now, but what about if they started dating? Moved in together? Got married? If he was even that remotely interested in her in the first place. She hadn't even had a boyfriend yet.

She stared at him for a moment, and almost didn't hear footsteps approaching her. She turned when she heard a stick in the grass break just off her right.

She looked up to see a man staring down at her. Dark hair, thin, muscular, dark clothes, a kind face… but Aislinn thought there was something off about his eyes….

"Can I help you with something?" She asked politely.

He smiled. "Actually, you can." He said….

….

_A/N: I was feeling kinda heated over that major cliffhanger the Criminal Minds writers left us. I mean, HOW DARE THEY? TO BE CONTINUED? **gasp, faints** …INCONCIEVIBLE! Haha… But still, Poor Morgan… _

_Something else… Oh YEAH! Ummm… I have a poll up on my profile about a xover I'm planning, and I also have two stories submitted for a contest that The-Vampire-Act is hosting… Please check out the stories, they are on my profile: __12 Hours__, and __Off The Tracks And On Fire,__ both of which are a product of my musings (one of which is a result of something the AMAZING Matthew Gray Gubler posted on his Twitter… Who else couldn't concentrate on the last few episodes because of his yummy hair?). Check out the poll, and my stories, and vote (poll for the contest is on The-Vampire-Act's profile)._

_Hoping you leave me a review!_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	7. UnSub Expose

_**Hello again!**_

_**Thanks to everyone who voted in The-Vampire-Act's season 5 contest (4**__**th**__** and 5**__**th**__** place! YAY!) And thanks to my reviewers **__**SayidRocks**__** and **__**cloudgirl9.**__** Virtual chocolate chocolate chip cookies with warm milk for everyone!**_

_**Also, for those of you who asked, now that the contest is over, I will be continuing **__**Off The Tracks and On Fire.**__** I'll start chapter 2 soon!**_

_**I own nothing! Can't wait for Season 6! I don't think it can come fast enough….**_

….

**Five Minutes Earlier**

Penelope Garcia was typing furiously at her keyboard, her monitors flashing as she worked.

"Come on, you skeevy, sneaky, sociopathic jerkface," she growled, "Show me your cowardly self so I can show YOU what happens when you mess with my babies, and anyone whom they meet."

By now she had hacked into the databases of the _St. Paul Pioneer Press,_ and was now making her way through employee records, checking them for criminal records, possible stressors, and cross-referencing them with the names of the victims' dead relatives… and coming up with nothing. So far.

But she was Penelope Garcia, Goddess of Information, Mistress of the Information Superhighway; she would find this sicko, pin him down with her mouse, keyboard and magic fingers, and send her furry friends off to find him, and give him a big surprise before he could kill anyone else…

A computer on the other side of her workspace beeped, and she moved her swivel chair in that direction to see what it was.

"HA!" She crowed. "Got you now you slimy, skeevy…" He fingers skimmed across the keys as she brought up the work information of a young man working for the press, muttering all sorts of interesting names and insults for the suspect.

"Lemmie see…" She muttered, bringing up a short biography on the man's like, reading over it as she reached for the phone… AHA! She had him! Now who to call…

First she rang her Chocolate God. No answer.

JJ. Nothing. _But at least she has a reason_, Garcia thought as she stared at a live feed from a Minnesota news station as JJ gave out a profile to the public.

Boss Man. No dice.

Prentiss. Nada.

Rossi. Again, nothing.

Garcia turned back to the television screen in time to see that there was news of a new body being discovered. _Evil sicko…_ the tech goddess thought wearily before dialing one last number.

_Come on, Boy Wonder,_ she though desperately _Pick it up. Don't be shy…_

And then…

"_Reid."_

Garcia sat up at attention. "Oh Thank GOD!" she cried in relief. "None of the others answered their phones, and I didn't know why…"

"_They found another body, Garcia. What…?"_ He sounded confused. Usually, she called them _after _they asked her to look something up. Well, she had outdone herself. And all for her baby boy on the other line.

"Don't speak, Boy Wonder; I have _très__important_ news that you MUST hear!" She trilled. "I think I have a connection between your victims…"

"_A connection?"_

"Yep, Monsieur Brain," She said, typing again, bringing up the file of the man she believed was their bad egg. "Okay, so I have a Mr. Dudley Briggs, age 34, who works for the _Pioneer Press_ newspaper; been working there for about two years now. I have just sent his picture and file to your phone … Here it is!"

"_What is it?" _

"Griggs took the obits! He collected the obits of Edward Swan, Charlie "Chuck" Sawyer, Andrew Jones and Jakob Werner from their relatives when they were submitted, typed them up and laid them out. He also collected the obits of Jacob Swan, Aimee Sawyer, Alec Sawyer, Lainey Jones and Jessica King, typed them up, and laid them out."

"_What do you mean by…?"_

"Layout is newspaper-speak for when the paper organizes the content of the edition that they'll be publishing. They place it in the section it will be featured, play with the font, cut and paste, and add a catchy title to the piece so there'll be _someone _out there who will read them." She skimmed the keys a bit more, bringing up more information. "Anyway, about a month before Mr. Edward Swan, a man by the name of Lance Griggs was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. And get this: Mr. Griggs' seat belt wasn't on. No wonder dear old Dudders snapped and started killing people."

"_59% of all fatal motorized vehicle accidents happen because someone wasn't wearing their seatbelt, usually the driver,"_ Reid said. _"Also, there were a total of 11,773 deaths due to drunk driving in 2008 in the United States. Minnesota is also one of the states cracking down on drunk driving death tolls." _

"Note to self," Garcia said in a tone of voice reminiscent of Hotch. "Remind JJ to take you to one of those 'MADD' meetings she and Will go to."

"_Good. Can you call the others, Garcia?"_

Better yet, I have a location. And a cell phone…Jinkies."

"_Garcia?"_

"What's at 2004 Randolph Avenue?"

"_T-that's where Aislinn and I are at, Garcia. The University…."_ Reid sounded worried. _"Garcia, what…"_

"Griggs is at 2004 Randolph Avenue. I'll call Hotch; you and Aislinn get out."

….

"_Can I help you with something?"_

"_Actually, you can…"_

Aislinn stood up; for some reason she didn't feel comfortable in an unequal position to this man.

"Do you need directions?" she asked, "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes," Dudley Griggs said. "I'm looking for you, Aislinn Werner. I want to help you. Save you, Aislinn."

Aislinn moved away from the stranger. "I-I d-don't need any h-help," she whispered. "I-I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Aislinn," Griggs continued. "You're in pain. You miss your father. I know what that's like. I miss my father, too." With that he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"No!" Aislinn said. "No, don't touch me. Let me go!"

"Come with me, Aislinn." His hold tightened, and he pulled her closer.

"No! No… Spencer! SPENCER, HELP! PLEASE!"

….

Hotchner's phone started buzzing as soon as he and Dave got into the SUV. Hotch answered, his usual scowl on his face.

"Go, Garcia." He said, putting her on speaker so Rossi and the other officers could hear.

"Dudley Griggs." The tech's voice echoed over the connection. "Dudley Griggs is your UnSub. His father died about a month before the killings started, he saw the obits for all the victim's family members, and collected the obits for the victims after the fact."

"Trophies," Rossi muttered. "Of course."

"That's not the worst of it," She said. "He's already at the University campus. Aislinn's his next victim."

Rossi was already on the phone "Prentiss, Donahue. Come with us to the SCU St. Paul campus now. We don't have time to get JJ. The UnSub is already getting his next victim. We were right; it's Aislinn."

In the other car, Prentiss hung up her phone, and glanced at Donahue, who simply nodded before she started the car. Donahue picked up his radio.

"Dispatcher this is Donahue, requesting backup at 2004 Randolph Avenue. Send to Campus Security to intercept murder suspect at 2004 Randolph Avenue…"

…

_A/N: Yeah… I'm kinda leaving it at a cliffhanger…_

_But I'll have the next part up soon; I'm just putting on the finishing touches._

_Please drop a review; I love it when you do!_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	8. Saving Aislinn

_**I had some time, so I added two chapters in one day! Be sure to check out chapter 7; some thing that happen here are revealed then!**_

_**We're getting to the end; I think I might do a sequel. I dunno; usually my sequels aren't as good as the originals. If you want me to, I'll try. Just let me know with the little icon thingy for reviews at the bottom.**_

_**Nothing is mine; it's all CBS and ABC. If I owned Criminal Minds… I dunno, I guess I'd ask to have MGG direct episodes more often (I'm STILL crazy in love with 'Mosley Lane').**_

….

"_Griggs is at 2004 Randolph Avenue. I'll call Hotch; you and Aislinn get out."_

Reid ended the call, stuffing his phone into his leather satchel as he turned from the edge of the pond where he'd been standing. Glancing around, he didn't see the man whose picture had appeared on his phone during his conversation with Garcia, but Reid knew that he wouldn't be far off….

"Spencer! SPENCER, HELP! PLEASE!"

Aislinn's voice cut the near-silent evening into pieces, and Spencer ran from behind the trees and onto the bridge to see Aislinn… And Griggs, battling each other.

"NO! Let GO!" Aislinn yelled. "SPENCER, HELP ME! PLEASE!"

"Dudley Griggs, FBI!" Reid shouted, drawing his gun and pointing it at Griggs. "Let her go, Griggs."

"I have to help her," he cried. "I need to save her. Look at her, Agent. LOOK AT HER! She's in pain!"

"Mr. Griggs, Aislinn is _not _in any sort of pain that I can see. She looks like a young woman who is clearly coping after the loss of her father. If anyone here is in pain, Mr. Griggs, it's you."

"NO!" Griggs roared. "I NEED to save her!"

"Save her from what, Mr. Griggs," Reid asked, walking across the bridge, keeping his weapon trained on Griggs. "What do you want to save her from?"

"From the emptiness of losing someone, and the agony of living with it forever!" Griggs pulled harder on Aislinn's arm, and, gasping, she slid closer to him. "Tell me, Agent," Griggs spat. "Have you shot anyone with that weapon? Have you destroyed anyone's family with that gun?"

"I have destroyed no one's family with this gun, Mr. Griggs," Reid said sharply as he descended from the bridge. "But I have shot people, I do not deny that. But only to protect people, innocent people, Mr. Griggs. Just like Aislinn. You don't want to hurt Aislinn, Mr. Griggs."

"I have to save her," Griggs whimpered, and he pulled again. Aislinn flew forward into Grigg's arms, and Reid raised the gun.

A split second later, a series of events unraveled at the same time.

Police cars and federal issue SUV's rolled up next to the wrought-iron fence surrounding the campus grounds, the officers and agents inside them raising weapons and running toward the standoff.

Aislinn recovered her bearings, and, without hesitation, stomped on Griggs' foot, then kicked him in the shin before running in the direction of the chapel.

Dudley Griggs gave chase to the young woman whom he needed to 'save'; he turned and followed her, limping slightly as he gave chase.

Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid glanced over at the line of police cars and federal agents, who were not being joined by Campus Security vans rushing to see if there was anything they could do to help. He looked to see his team coming up the lawn, and he led them to the chapel.

….

Aislinn took the stairs two at a time, looking back to see her pursuer limping after, taking the stairs at a much slower pace. Aislinn ducked into the chapel, running for the back room and the doorway into the old organ loft. Luckily, the door to the organ loft was open, and she ran up the stairs, stumbling a bit when they got a bit steeper. Griggs was right behind her, reaching into his pocket.

Aislinn had a sudden image of a small revolver, like the ones she'd seen on TV during crime shows, but only when Griggs removed from his pocket a small hypodermic needle with a filled syringe, she felt a new terror well up inside her. She knew that whatever was in that syringe, which was most likely morphine, was probably enough to give her an overdose, and possibly kill her.

As a child, Aislinn had _hated_ going to the doctor; in her opinion, it usually meant a shot, and she'd always hated them, mostly for the pain. She was never comfortable with sharp things being close to her; needles didn't help. Being stung by bees at the ages of eight, nine and eleven didn't help it, either, and made her terrified of bees. And she didn't like the look of many of the sharp knives in her mother's kitchen, either.

As she saw the needle, she stumbled, falling against the doorway of the organ balcony and hitting her head against the stone wall. Griggs took this chance to grab her foot, but Aislinn managed to get away, leaving Griggs with her shoe. She scampered backwards, backing up against the wall that made up the railing of the organ balcony.

Griggs tossed the shoe over the railing. It sailed out into the chapel, falling and landing somewhere in the space. Aislinn cringed as it hit the ground, the sound echoing around the space.

"No…" Aislinn whimpered.

"It'll be alright," Griggs said soothingly, kneeling next to Aislinn and setting the needle down on the floor. She closed her eyes when she heard his belt come unbuckled, and whimpered when she felt the leather of said belt wrap around her forearm.

"No," she gasped. "No, please. Don't… I don't want it. Please."

"Shhh… It'll be over soon."

….

"Where are they?" Hotch whispered as they crept into the chapel, guns drawn, checking every pew and every nook and cranny.

Prentiss and Hotch were searching the rows of pews, guns aimed into every pew. JJ had gone down one hallway, toward the student center, while Rossi had made his way toward the administration building.

Morgan, who had joined them after they first arrived on campus, and Reid, were checking the back of the chapel when Morgan saw Aislinn's shoe fly through the air and land in a pew halfway down the back rows of pews.

"They're upstairs!" Reid whispered, and raced for a door that appeared to lead to a balcony halfway up the wall, Morgan following behind him. Hotch and Prentiss stayed below, watching.

Reid and Morgan raced up the stairs, guns drawn, and burst into the old organ balcony. Griggs was kneeling next to Aislinn, a syringe in his hand. A belt was tied around Aislinn's arm, like a tourniquet. Her eyes were scrunched closed, and her lower lip was trembling slightly.

"No," Aislinn gasped. "No, please. Don't… I don't want it. Please."

"Shhh… It'll be over soon." Griggs readied the syringe, whatever was inside it spitting out the end as the air was pushed out.

"No… I don't want it, please…"

Spencer's heart went out to Aislinn; he remembered not wanting it, but still getting it. He didn't want her to go through that…. "Drop it," he hissed, raising the gun and moving slowly toward Griggs, arm outstretched to grab the syringe.

Griggs looked at the two agents and reacted. He grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into Reid's forearm as he advanced toward Griggs. Then, while Reid struggled to pull it out, Griggs jumped from the balcony, Morgan shooting at him. All Morgan's shots went wide.

But then, another shot rang out from below, and Reid caught a glimpse of Griggs' face as he went down. There was a hole in the exact center of his head.

Morgan lowered his gun, and Reid helped Aislinn to her feet. Together, the three of them looked over the balcony at Grigg's prone figure, and Hotch, looking up at them with his usual straight face.

"What?" the Unit Chief said, no sign of a smile on his face. "I was aiming for his leg."

….

_A/N: I wanted to do that… I've got LDSK in my head. Weird; I'm thinking Season 1, but I was watching Season 4 while writing. Haha…. :D_

_I'm guessing two, possibly three more chapters. We're winding down, like I said._

_Please review! They'll make my day!_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	9. Thank You, Spencer

_**Woah… I post two chapters in one lazy summer afternoon, and I get like 10 reviews… I should do that again more often. Haha….**_

_**Thanks to **__**cloudgirl9**__**, **__**SayidRocks**__**, **__**dothepettperminttwist**__**, and **__**Noel Ardnek**__** for their awesome reviews, and comments! And Thanks to everyone who favorite and alerted this story. You know who you are!**_

_**Once again, nothing is mine. CBS and ABC own everything, though I hope to someday own the first four season, and maybe season 5, on DVD. I also don't own Harry Potter, Spiderman, Brewberrys, James Blunt or anything else.**_

….

It seemed that the after-effects of Dudley Griggs' serial killing spree were yet to be resolved. However, their resolution would begin within the next few hours, as was apparent by the fast job done by Donahue and his officers.

Aislinn Werner and Spencer Reid were both taken to the hospital; Aislinn was being treated for a very head injury and possibly mild concussion; her head had split open when it had made contact with the stone doorway to the organ balcony, and would be kept overnight for observation. Reid was being treated for a possible morphine overdose; while it appeared that none of the morphine had in fact entered his system, the EMTs, Hotch, Morgan and even Reid himself agreed that he should be kept overnight for observation, just in case.

Garcia arrived later that evening, much to the team's surprise, and showered both Reid and Aislinn with gifts and flowers, exclaiming about how exciting it was to finally meet Reid's new friend, heavy emphasis on the word 'friend,' making Morgan and Prentiss laugh, JJ smile, and Reid and Aislinn blush.

….

It was after the hospital staff had settled down, and after the team and Aislinn's family had left for the night that Aislinn crept into Reid's hospital room. Both were being kept for observation in fairly comfortable single rooms, painted a natural tan color with televisions, bathrooms and semi-comfortable couches and chairs.

Wordlessly, she crept into his room, parting the curtain that hung in front of the door, and making her way to one of the chairs sitting next to it.

"Are you alright?" Spencer asked, concerned. She shook her head.

"I- I just wanted to say thank you, Spencer Reid," she whispered. "You saved my life. I don't know if I can thank you enough."

"Aislinn, I let him get to you," Reid miserably whispered. "I stepped away for a moment, and he tried to take you. If you hadn't screamed when you did, and if I hadn't been so close…."

"You were right there." She told him. "You were able to stop him from doing anything to me." She took his hand, and squeezed it. "That's what's important. _You _saved _me._ And that's what's important. Don't go believing anything else, because saving people is what you're good at. You're the Spiderman to my Mary-Jane, the Harry Potter to my Ginny Weasley. You're my hero."

"You could've died, though," Reid whispered. "Heck, _I _could've died."

"'Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love.'" Aislinn quoted. At Spencer's confused look she said, "Albus Dumbledore." Then, she chuckled. "I have a strange habit of quoting Harry Potter when I want to inspire people," she whispered. "I did it during the speech I gave for graduation."

"I'm glad you did," he whispered back, taking her other hand in his free hand. "You're inspiring me."

Aislinn smiled slightly. "You know, we never got a chance to go out for that coffee…." She began in earnest.

"Tomorrow," Spencer declared. "As soon as we get out of here.

Overhead, the PA played a song playing on the radio from the nurse's station:

_As strong as you were, tender you go.  
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.  
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,  
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.  
I'll carry you home._

….

Brewberry's Coffee Shop was a small, quaint café, located just across the street from the block where St. Catherine University was located. The walls were painted a light green, the floors were carpeted and a bounty of windows let in plenty of natural light. A scattering of booths and tables gave the café a homey, lived-in feeling, and the café served many different menu items, from ice cream and sandwiches, to coffee, the and chai lattes.

Patrons to Brewberry's Coffee Shop the next day were not surprised to see a young man and woman sitting in the corner, happily talking about one thing or another; it wasn't uncommon to see such things in the small local coffee shop.

But if they had looked closer, they would have seen the woman, who looked more childlike than her companion, stirring her chai latte thoughtfully, the brown eyes behind her blue glasses staring fixedly at the man in front of her, a tall, thin, long-hair young man wearing a dark blue sweater, light blue collared shirt and a purple tie, even when her went on about something that most people would have needed some sort of book or search engine to check.

Spencer Reid and Aislinn Werner didn't see the other patrons to the restaurant; for a moment, they could pretend that they weren't a college student and an FBI profiler, but two friends chatting over a cup of some hot beverage (in his case, coffee, with plenty of spoonfuls of sugar added in; hers, a medium chai tea latte, nothing added, a mixing straw for her to keep her hands busy).

They had first started by talking about Dr. Seuss verses Sheil Silverstein (which hadn't lasted long before they got into the classics, like Shakespeare and a few well-known poets.

"Shakespeare seems to add a bit of dry humor and puns to everything, even his tragedies. In _Julius Ceaser,_ the cobbler mentions both the terms 'souls' and 'soles,' like shoe soles. I found that interesting overall." Aislinn said. "What about you?"

"The fact that most people translate 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo,' in the famous monologue from Act 3 of _Romeo and Juliet_ as 'where,' when in fact it actually means 'why.'"

"So she is basically saying 'Romeo, why are you, well, you?'" she murmured thoughtfully. "She wants him to change his identity, or else she will change hers. She will always love him, no matter what his name is. Either way, she wants them to be together, whatever the sacrifice."

"Yeah, and nothing will hold them back. Only that afternoon, Romeo was in love with Rosaline, and Juliet was trying to impress potential husbands. Also, did you know that Chaucer was actually known for being one of the first writers of Valentine's poems."

"He also wrote _The Canterbury Tales_!" Aislinn exclaimed. "I've been meaning to bet that book on my Amazon Kindle for _ages_ now."

They talked about anything that caught their fancy, from books to authors, to even Reid's funny stories about his co-workers.

"… And then Emily asked me if I had ever seen 'A Clockwork Orange,' so of course I said I hadn't, and said so, and the way that she just _looked _at me…" Spencer smiled at the memory.

"Good. Don't watch it, becuae I saw a bit of it in my Psychology class last year, and I was just terrified," Aislinn said, chuckling. "By the way, what was with the 'aiming for his leg' thing that Hotch mentioned?"

"It was this case we were doing. There was a guy shooting people, and operating on them after the fact. Hotch and I caught up to him, and he held an entire ER hostage."

"How did you get out?"

"Hotch devised this plan where I had to get his back-up weapon. It was… interesting, to say the least. I had to get kicked by my supervisor in order to get the gun."

"And then you shot the guy." Aislinn stated.

"Yeah… Afterward, I said I was aiming for his leg. Hotch didn't believe me, so I told him that he kicked like a nine year old girl."

Aislinn laughed. Spencer took another sip of coffee, blushing slightly.

Neither of them wanted the afternoon to end.

….

They walked down the street, not really saying anything; neither of them wanted to say the words that they knew needed to be said.

It had started to rain; not really a downpour, but enough for them to notice, and for them to get wet. It didn't help the impending departure; neither did the two black SUV's idling in front of Aislinn's dorm hall, St. Mary's. They walked toward the vehicles, not really looking at them.

"So…" Spencer began, crossing his arms across his body in a position familiar to his teammates, who were watching them from the cars.

Aislinn looked at the SUV's sadly, hands stuffed unceremoniously into her jacket pockets before turning to look at him again.

"Do you think I'll see you again?" She asked.

He glanced over at the dorm hall again, and then at the SUV, then back at Aislinn. "I'm not sure." He admitted. "There is the possibility that we'll have another case here sooner than later, or that you'll be in another town where we have another case, and at the same time." He paused, thinking over what he wanted to say. "I've... never felt this way about someone. I mean, there have been cases that we've done, where I've gotten emotionally attached to people I've met, or in some cases, the people we hunt down. Usually because I understand what they've gone through, or want what they want, or…." He trailed off, arms coming unfolded to rest at his sides. "This is the first time that I've been reluctant to actually _leaving_."

"I've never been good with good-byes, either," Aislinn admitted. "Sometimes, I wish there were no good-byes to be said, that everyone could be with everyone they love, and not have to worry about possibly not seeing someone again."

"That we could _choose_ not to say good-bye." Spencer said.

"Albus Dumbledore said that, 'It is our choices that make us who we are, far more than our abilities,'" Aislinn pointed out. "Maybe if we choose that this won't be the _last_ time we say good-bye…."

"Then maybe we'll see each other again," Spencer finished. "… I really like that idea."

"I still have your card," Aislinn said, digging into her purse for a pen. "Do you want my information…Unless Garcia already has it?"

"I'm sure she does, but I'm more than willing to take it," he said, and she quickly wrote down her address and email on a scrap of paper, handing it Spencer before it could get so wet that it was illegible.

"And I want you to have this," Aislinn added finally, reaching for the clasp of her locket, and undoing it.

"I can't…" Spencer said, but she placed it into his hand, closing his long fingers over it.

"It's a gift, a promise to see you again," Aislinn insisted. "I want you to have it."

Reid nodded. "Thank you," he said, placing it into his pocket. Aislinn nodded, and then raced in to wrap her arms around him in a hug. Immediately, his arms reached around her to complete the embrace, rocking her slightly.

The broke apart, sharing one last look before going their separate ways. Reid climbed into one of the waiting SUV's and Aislinn walked back into the dorm hall, allowing herself one last look at the departing SUVs.

A single tear fell down her cheek, blending in with the rain falling from the heavens.

….

_A/N: Just one more chapter…. **sniff** I'll post that tomorrow for sure! Just a little brotherly moment between Reid and Morgan._

_Also, I may post a little bit after the last chapter, with a playlist and stuff. Review if you think that's a good idea._

_Love you all; thanks for coming on the ride! Let me know if you want a sequel._

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	10. Epilogue: No Statistic

_**I'm just gonna post this chapter now, and I'll give you a playlist and aknowledge everyone in that section then, too!**_

_**I can't believe this story is over! I feel so sad… **_

_**Thanks to everyone who favorite and alerted. And a very big THANK YOU to my reviewers **__**cloudgirl9**__**, **__**SayidRocks**__**, **__**dothepettperminttwist**__**, and **__**Noel Ardnek.**__** You guys were AMAZING! With all your thoughts and wisdom… Thank you!**_

_**Once again, I own nothing…**_

_**Thanks for reading, and sticking with me!**_

….

_Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that whch is omnipresent. In this divine glass they see face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, because immortal. ~William Penn_

The jet flew out of the rainy city of St. Paul that evening, the seven members of the BAU pursuing their usual post- case activities. Except for one member.

Reid sat quietly in his usual seat, eyes fixated on the locket in his hands. He had opened it to reveal the picture of Aislinn's father, a picture that appeared to have been taken before the cancer had taken too badly a toll on him. He was smiling slightly, a yellow baseball cap perched atop his head. Reid could easily see where Aislinn had inherited her brown eyes and childlike features.

Reid heard the chair in front of him squeak, and looked up to see Morgan sitting across from him. "So…" the dark –skinned man began, his tone light and slightly teasing. "You find yourself another pretty girl, Pretty Boy?"

Reid ignored him, instead taking extreme care in closing the locket, and placing it inside his jacket pocket, making sure it was secure before moving his hand away.

Morgan's smile faded slightly when he saw this behavior and was instantly concerned. "Talk to me, Kid."

Reid said nothing for a moment, instead just contenting himself with the view of the sky outside. "It was what she said, right when we came up, Morgan."

Morgan watched his young friend's face for a moment. "You mean… in the chapel… With Griggs."

Reid nodded. "I- I said the exact same thing to… to Tobias, and he…"

Morgan nodded; Reid didn't have to say anything more. "You saw yourself in her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and I didn't want her to have to go through that, Morgan," he whispered. "I-I never wanted what became of that, and seeing Griggs with the syringe and the belt… She didn't deserve that, and I had to stop him. I didn't want what happened to me… to happen to her, either."

"So you went for it." Morgan finished. "Kid, you have no idea how lucky you are… That syringe held at least twice the usual dosage of morphine for someone her weight. I'd even go as far as to say there was enough to overdose you. Going to grab that syringe… a crazy idea overall on your part, not to mention you're lucky Hotch isn't going after you for that, or… or dead."

"I could've died, I know," Reid whispered, "but… the idea of dying was outweighed by the idea that she could die. And I've never felt like that before."

"Like what?" Morgan was interested.

"Like… like losing her would mean the end of the natural world. I've never felt that before. Not with Lila, not with Austin… I wanted to protect her, but it was more… _primal._ That, and I wanted to _stay there_ with her." He glanced out the window again for a moment before turning to Morgan. "You know…" he started. "I-I think she likes me. And… honestly, I like her, too."

For what seemed the first time, Reid didn't know what to think. "Do you think I'll see her again?"

Morgan looked surprised. "What? You don't have a statistic for that?" Reid shook his head.

Prentiss was walking by as Morgan said this. "Never thought I'd see the day that Dr. Reid didn't have a statistic to quote." She muttered, walking back to refill her coffee cup.

"Reid, if neither one of us knows the statistics on that, then who knows." Morgan said. "I mean, look at JJ and Will. We saw him for that one case on New Orleans, and then didn't see min again until Miami and New York a year later, and by then we'd figured out that JJ was visiting with him, and she told us she was pregnant." He paused, standing up. "But who honestly knows. The odds are pretty good. Maybe you'll see her again before you know it."

And with that, Morgan went back to his seat, leaving Reid in a thoughtful silence throughout the rest of the flight.

_A/N: …And, it's gone! **cried hysterically**_

_Thanks for sticking with me; a full list of thanks should be available within the next few days!_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	11. Next time on Criminal Minds

Hey Faithful Readers, Reviewers, Alert-ers and Favorite-rs, (I wanted to say "Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode," but this isn't the show, and I don't own it).

This is just a heads-up that I will be posting a sequel to "Ever Present, Because Immortal." Until then, I'm going to give you the summary of that sequel. I'm still working out some kinks in the way the story will go, but I can confirm that the team and Aislinn will be there. And we'll be meeting her family.

….

_A case in a small Northern-Wisconsin lake town has SSA Dr. Spencer Reid reuniting with a familiar face. But contact with this UnSub may change his life, and his relationship with Aislinn, forever._

….

I'm also working on a one-shot spanning the time between Ever Present…, and the sequel, which should be up soon.

….

I also have a playlist. Most of the music would be the music scores you'd usually hear during an episode, (or some tunes from any of the more recent Harry Potter movies (5 or 6) would work, too), but I had a playlist for some Reid/Aislinn moments.

**Who We Are…Hope 7** (Aislinn is running late to class, runs into Reid, and runs off to class) I'll post a link to the song on my profile if you want to hear it.

**Cable Car…The Fray** (Reid working the geographical profile, and talks with Aislinn about the book)

**Chasing Cars…Snow Patrol **_**OR**_** You Found Me…The Fray **_**OR**_** Never Think…Rob Pattinson** (The scene at the pond)

**Assassin…Muse** (Garcia discovering the UnSub's identity to Aislinn reaching the organ balcony)

**Carry You Home… James Blunt** (After Griggs' death, during the hospital scene)

**Chase This Light… Jimmy Eat World** (At Brewberrys Coffee Shop)

**Original of the Species…U2** (When Reid and Aislinn say good-bye, and on the plane while Reid and Morgan talk)

….

On an unrelated note, I'm planning the next chapter of _Off The Tracks and On Fire_… Which should be finalized soon. I will let you in on a secret… Nathan Harris is NOT the UnSub.

Thanks for your comments, thoughts, ideas, and reviews cloudgirl9, SayidRocks, dothepepperminttwist, and Noel Ardnek! I hope to hear again from you.


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